Harry Potter and the Rotating Plot Lines
by hobo-hobisho
Summary: Harry can't seem to find a consistent storyline.. oh wait, that isn't Harry, that's me... hmmm... Now the story is COMPLETE! Minor bad language and some violence, all for humor's sake.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related. I also don't own Everybody Loves Raymond. I do own a brand spanking new OotP book. Woo.   
  
A/N: Okay, all, this started as 4 AM net surfing, it turned into a crazy fic. I tried to incorporate many of the hilarious "Harry Potter Titles You'll Never See" type things. Here goes.  
  
Harry Potter and the Mysteries of Windows 2000  
  
"What is this thing?" Ron asked, peeringly curiously at the square thing on Hermione's desk.  
  
"It's my computer. I can't bring it to Hogwarts, it won't work there. So I keep it here at my parent's house."  
  
"What's a computer?"  
  
"Oh, that's right. You wouldn't know, would you? Harry knows, don't you Harry?"  
  
"Sure, Dudley plays cool games on his computer. Let me show you, Ron." Harry sat down in front of the computer and began typing furiously. "I know the code for a game, just wait one second." The screen turned blue and random numbers appeared on it.  
  
"NO! NOT THE BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH!" Harry screamed in frustration.   
  
"What's the problem, son?" Hermione's father popped in and asked.  
  
"This blasted machine! It keeps saying Illegal Operation! I haven't even DONE anything! Die, PC, DIE!!!"   
  
Harry Potter and the Enchanted Cheese Grater  
  
"I'm sorry, Hermione, I don't think I made a good impression on your parents."  
  
"No, Harry, bludgeoning an expensive piece of machinery is the perfect way to win them over."  
  
"Oh, good then!"  
  
*sigh*   
  
"hey, Hermione, what's this?" Ron picked up a cheese grater.  
  
"That grates cheese, Ron," she explained in a bored voice.  
  
"Neat!" Ron ran his hand down the grater, tearing off layers of skin and gushing blood.   
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"Oh, honestly, come here," Hermione grabbed his hand and pointed her wand at it.   
  
"Hermione, we can't do magic outside of school!"  
  
"I'd say this is an emergency, wouldn't you?" Looking at Ron's bloodied hand, Harry nodded yes.  
  
"All better now," Hermione said. Ron looked down and saw his hand was repaired. He threw his arms   
  
around Hermione in gratitude. She looked revolted and pushed him aside.  
  
"Hey, look at the cheese grater now!" Harry exclaimed. They both looked and saw the grater was dancing along the edge of the counter with a tiny cane and top hat.  
  
"Blimey! Muggles have neat stuff!"  
  
"Uh, Ron, it's not supposed to do that. There must be some odd connection between Muggle objects and Wizard blood."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Let's just go to school before we totally wreck the place."   
  
Harry Potter and the Urinal of Wisdom  
  
"Ron, I'll be right back, I have to use the loo."  
  
"Wow, I didn't realize we had bodily functions. They've never been mentioned."  
  
"Good point, Ron... but, now, for some reason, I seem to be having one."  
  
"Harry, don't go! What if it's some kind of trap?"  
  
"Calm down, Hermione, we spent the larger part of our second year in a bathroom, and we were fine."  
  
"Yes, but it was a girl's bathroom. Boy's bathrooms aren't always that pleasant."  
  
"You may have a point, but I'm going to go anyway."  
  
Without fear, or a brain, Harry strode off to the boy's bathroom. While he was urinating, he heard a strange voice.   
  
"Harry… you must not stay at Hogwarts."  
  
"Oh, crackers, not this again. Dobby where are you?"  
  
"I am not Dobby. I am the Urinal of Wisdom!"  
  
"Okay, that's creepy… hey, wait, are you for real?"  
  
"Yes. I am a talking urinal!"  
  
"Wow. Neat. Hey, you can see my naughty parts!" Embarrassed, Harry zipped his pants up.  
  
"Without even a follow-up jiggle? Kid, that's asking for trouble."  
  
"So, you really have wisdom huh? What's that?"  
  
"I know, intelligence is such a strange concept for the stupid to handle. We don't need to worry about that. The important thing is, Harry, you must leave Hogwarts at once. There is an evil plot against you."  
  
"When isn't there? I still don't care. My friends are here."  
  
"Oh you big baby. You HAVE to leave. When a urinal tells you what to do, boy, you do it! You simply cannot stay in this series - er, school, any longer. You are driving people mad."   
  
"Ooh, with desire?"  
  
"No, Professor Snape does that. You drive them mad with frustration and homicidal tendencies."  
  
"That doesn't sound good."  
  
"It isn't. Leave at once, boy!"  
  
Harry Potter and the Flobberworm from Hell   
  
"Maybe you should listen, Harry."  
  
"I never have before, Hermione, and I'm still alive!"  
  
"Just barely, and anyway, you only have 2 books left. That's approximately two thousand pages… Something bad could happen."  
  
"Yes, but I will not heed warning. I am a hero, remember? I don't see you fighting Voldemort and having your godfather murdered, and still managing to carry on, now do I??"  
  
"Ron, he's having his tantrums again."  
  
"Cripes, I thought we settled this. Oh well, we're late for Potions, let's just take him with us."  
  
"Oh, sure, don't even ASK me if I want to go. Just drag him along, maybe we'll find trouble on the way and he can save our lives, good old Harry. GOOD OLD HARRY MY FOOT!"  
  
"Yes, yes," Hermione murmured, dragging Harry into the dungeons. He stopped screaming but sat at his desk fuming.   
  
"Get to work!" Professor Snape snapped, flicking his wand at the board. An unusually uncomplicated potion appeared. Hermione looked disappointed, but Ron was glad. With Harry in his funk, he wouldn't do well. And Snape's pestering was not likely to make Mt. Harry any less likely to erupt.  
  
"Yuck, flobberworms!" Ron groaned. Harry grabbed them and started grinding them up, with a maniacal gleam in his eye. Ron backed away a few steps.   
  
"Little flobberworms… grindy grindy grind little flobbies… OUCH!" Harry screamed. Professor Snape wafted over to Harry and Ron, a look of contempt on his face.   
  
"What have you done horrifically wrong now, Mr. Potter?"   
  
"The flobberworm bit me!"  
  
"It doesn't even have the biological capacity to do such a thing, Mr. Potter. Detention."  
  
It was just then that Snape noticed blood gushing from Harry's hand.   
  
"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron.  
  
"No pun intended, I presume?"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Never mind. Mr. Potter, get to the hospital wing - and hurry before someone realizes that I was wrong! GO!" Harry ran out of the room grasping his bleeding hand. Snape turned to examine the flobberworm in question. "What the…?" the flobberworm's eyes glowed red and a tiny pair of fangs were protruding from it. It stood up on the table (despite it's lack of legs) and began to speak in tongues.  
  
"What's it saying?" Ron asked Hermione, who looked annoyed because she didn't know.  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you all speak English. Well, in that case, let me repeat myself. I am a flobberworm…. from helllllllllllllllll"  
  
"Great," Snape said, smashing it with a book.   
  
Harry Potter and the Unexplainable Wad of Tissues  
  
Meanwhile, in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey was wadding tissues around Harry's injured hand. "You'd think a bandage would work, but cheap ass Dumbledore blew all the money on the Christmas decorations, and after that nasty malpractice suit, I can't buy medical supplies myself… you'd think they'd realize that it was just ONE GLOVE for the sake of a patient's enjoyment… I didn't hear the PATIENT complaining. One glove and I'm back in the bloody stone ages…"  
  
Harry wasn't listening, partly because he never does, and partly because he noticed something odd about these tissues.   
  
"Madam Pomfrey, are these the tissues with lotion in them?"  
  
"Yes, they are. Disgusting, aren't they? I think Ray on Everybody Loves Raymond said it best… they feel like somebody already used them. But, for the sake of soaking up your blood, they do nicely. Not as nicely as a BANDAGE, but cheap ass Dumbledore…"  
  
"Yes, yes, Madam Pomfrey, that will do." Professor McGonagall had appeared, and she didn't look pleased at hearing her beloved slandered.   
  
"Professor McGonagall, is something wrong?" Harry asked, because she had a pinched look on her face.  
  
"No, Mr. Potter, I always look like this, remember?"  
  
"Oh, that's right. So, what's going on then?"  
  
"Actually, I was wondering just WHAT you think you're doing with THAT wad of tissues."  
  
"Um… what?"  
  
"That's school property, and you're BLEEDING all OVER it."  
  
"Wow, Professor, what's with the random capitalization of your words?"  
  
"I DON'T know MISTER potter, but I will FIND out! After you TELL me where that WAD of tissues came from!"  
  
"Um, Madam Pomfrey said they'd soak up my blood."  
  
"WHAT blood?" Harry looked down and, indeed, there was no blood.  
  
"Hey, these tissues are like magic!"  
  
"Oh, dear. You are an idiot." 


	2. Rectal Itch

Harry Potter and the Painful Rectal Itch   
  
"Hey, as long as I'm in the hospital wing, I have a medical problem to ask you about." Madam Pomfrey came bustling over to Harry.   
  
"As long as it doesn't require a BANDAGE, because cheap ass…"  
  
"No, no bandages. See, my… well… erm…. this is embarrassing."  
  
Madam Pomfrey sighed and sat down beside Harry. "Well, son, you are at the age that some… odd things begin to happen. Trust me, the hair appearing in your nether regions is perfectly normal."  
  
"WHAT? I'm gonna get hair down there? ICKY!" Harry screamed.   
  
"Oh um… that wasn't your concern?"  
  
"Well, it wasn't but it sure as hell is now!"   
  
"I'm sorry, son. I'll refer you to a male professor to further discuss your personal issues. How about Professor Snape? He owes me one for the thing with the glove…"  
  
"Please, DON'T go into further detail. And hand me that basin, I need to vomit."  
  
  
  
Harry wandered down to the dungeons, unable to believe that he was really going to talk to Snape about something so personal as his bum. Draco probably did it all the time, but Draco had a hero-worship for Snape that Harry frankly could not understand. Then again, Harry could not understand much.   
  
"Mr. Potter," Snape wafted out of a shadow.  
  
"Um… hi Professor… um… McGona - Professor McGonagall said I should talk to you about - well, see I have -"  
  
"A painful rectal itch?"  
  
"I don't want to think about how you knew that."  
  
"You are scratching your ass."  
  
"Oh. Well. Um…"  
  
"Look, Mr. Potter, I have just the potion to take care of that. Here." Snape extended a small vial to Harry, who took it and downed it eagerly. Almost immediately, his butt began to burn.   
  
"MY ASS BURNS!!!!"  
  
"That just means it's working," Snape reassured Harry, a bit gleefully.   
  
Harry waddled back to the dormitories, his ass still burning. By the time he got into his room, the itch and burn has subsided, but now he had a whole new problem to deal with. He gasped as he opened the door to find…. 


	3. When Harry Met Snape

A/N: these titles were all found at mugglenet.com/rejectedtitles.shtml All credit for the titles belongs to those good people. All credit for HP characters goes to J.K.Rowling. All credit for genius storyline goes to ME!!!  
  
Harry Potter and the Clean but Unfolded Laundry  
  
Neville's clothes were strewn all about the dormitory, unfolded and haphazardly flung. Harry picked up a shirt and sniffed it, realized the clothes were clean. If they are clean, Harry thought, WHY ARE THEY NOT FOLDED?  
  
"Voldemort murdered my parents!" Harry screamed at the clothes. They did not seem to care. Harry flung himself on his bed and began to sob. His ass was burning, the clothes weren't folded, and nobody loved him anymore. Sob, sob.   
  
"Harry, are you all right?" Harry sat up with a start and wiped his eyes.   
  
"Sure, Seamus, I'm fine."   
  
"Did you have a crazy Voldemort dream and toss the clothes about?"  
  
"No, they're Neville's. And when he gets in here, there will be hell to pay."  
  
"Um... why?"  
  
"CLEAN CLOTHES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE FOLDED! OTHERWISE, HOW CAN YOU TELL THEM APART FROM DIRTY CLOTHES?"  
  
"Good point... but it's still not a capital offense or anything, Harry."  
  
"VOLDEMORT MURDERED MY PARENTS!"  
  
"I'm leaving." Seamus walked out of the room, and Harry promptly began sobbing again.   
  
Harry Potter and the Trench Coat Mafia  
  
Harry sat up with a start in the middle of the night. He had cried himself to sleep and missed dinner. His ass itch had subsided, however, but something about Snape's potion was making him feel a little... homicidal. Harry looked over at the sleeping Seamus and smiled at the mental image of gunning down Seamus in a blaze of glory.   
  
Whoa, Harry, what are you thinking? Harry shook himself to try to dislodge the thought, but it stuck. He now envisioned himself runnng through the school, bringing justice to all those who had wronged him. Harry's mental self ran into Snape's dungeons, opened his trench coat - wait, what happened to his robes?   
  
Harry got out of bed and slipped his Invisibility Cloak on. He had to see Professor Snape. He stumbled down and managed, somehow, as usual, to allude detection despite the fact that his hand stuck out of the cloak to carry the lantern. No one noticed floating lanterns with hands attached anymore.   
  
Harry made his way to Snape's door and stood trembling outside... he knew not why he was dreaming of murdering his classmates, but it was quite probable Snape was behind it. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Harry believed Snape was evil.   
  
"Oh, floating lantern, may I ask what your doing here?" a low, cold voice came from behind Harry. He spun around, losing half of the cloak so only half his head was showing. "Son of Merlin! Someone finally chopped off half of Potter's head! Oh, joy!" Harry fully removed the cloak and Snape's face fell. "Blast..."   
  
"Professor Snape... that potion for my... well..."  
  
"Rectal itch?"  
  
"Yes, that. Does it have any... odd side effects?"  
  
Snape grinned evilly. "Why, no, it doesn't."  
  
"I must be going mad!"  
  
"Potter, come into my office. We have a lot in common all of a sudden." Harry was appalled to hear Snape say this, but he went into his office anyway - what else was there to do? "Potter... may I call you Harry? Harry... that sounds terrible coming out of my mouth. I am so beautiful, I should not mar this... Potter, it is a side effect of something that's been happening to you lately."  
  
"Being possessed and controlled by Voldemort?"  
  
"Er, no... being written as angsty."  
  
"I'm sorry?"  
  
Snape sighed and leaned across his desk. "You started out with a horrible life, kid - but when this whole fiasco began, you were still hopeful. Positive, in a disgusting way. But, your experiences - seeing death, especially that of a loved one... they have made you somewhat less enjoyable to read about - er, be around. You have morphed into a Junior Me... all Angst, all the time."  
  
"So... I dream about killing people now?"  
  
"Yep. And you also really need a hug."  
  
"Are you offering?"  
  
"Merlin, no! I'm angsty, too. We cannot bond! Leave my office immediately... why did I even bring you here? Oh oh... you remind me of your father, whom I hated... grumble, sigh, angst." Harry leaped out of his seat and made for the door, as Snape laid his head in his hands and began to softly weep. 


	4. Blaise ManWoman of Action

Disclaimer: You know the drill. The characters are not mine, except for the tulip, and may I say, it's a better character than Harry.   
  
A/N: Please admire my restraint in not allowing Hermione to completely explain angst... because it fascinates me, and I could have bored you all to tears with it.   
  
Harry Potter And The Gringott's Bank Job  
  
Harry left Snape's office feeling very dejected and useless. Was this angst? He wondered. He'd better ask Hermione. By an extraordinary stroke of luck, Hermione wandered around a corner that very moment.   
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"What are you doing out of bed this late?"  
  
"I was looking for you, actually. What are you doing, asking for trouble?"  
  
"I was visiting Professor Snape."  
  
"Harry, are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Not particularly. I'm having disturbing thoughts."  
  
"Oh boy... what about this time?"  
  
"Hermione, what is angst?"  
  
"Angst is a word, Harry, that has several meanings, but is generally used to describe depression, anxiety, and other such emotions. It has a very interesting history. I've read all about it. Angst is a philosophical term for the feeling of dread that arises from knowing we have free will - you see, in the theory of existentialism..."  
  
"That's nice, Hermione, thanks!" Harry said and bolted away from her. As he sprinted away, Hermione still babbling behind him, he ran into a wall.   
  
"Filthy student scum, lying in the corridors at all hours of the day and night - oh, I wish I could beat you, child!" Of all the people that could have discovered me here, thought Harry, it had to be the homicidal janitor.   
  
"Hey, Filch, I have a major problem, and if you're not going to be sensitive to my needs, bugger off!" Filch looked surprised at Harry's outburst, and sneered back at him.  
  
"Oh yeah, what's this major problem, then?"  
  
"I'm - I'm - angsty!"  
  
"Me, too! Hey, you should talk to.."  
  
"Snape, yeah, did it already."  
  
"Hmm... well, perhaps Blaise Zabini, do you know hir?"  
  
"Wow, ze's angsty?"  
  
"Well, yes. It's tough not knowing your sex."  
  
"I suppose it must be." With that, Harry trotted off to the Slytherin common room - he had a hard time remembering where it was, but followed the scent of Malfoy's hair gel. When Draco spotted Harry standing outside the common room, his eyebrows leapt off his face and he ran to find Professor Snape.   
  
"Professor Snape, come quick! Potter's outside!"  
  
"Draco, you shouldn't be so concerned about Potter - nevertheless, I'll take care of him for you."  
  
"Thank you, Professor!"  
  
"Yeah. Whatever," muttered Snape as he headed for the door. Potter must want to discuss our angst, he thought. He opened the door to Potter's surprise.   
  
"Hey, Professor, is Blaise Zabini here?"   
  
"I'm sure ze is, but I don't know which dormitory to look in." Harry sighed and turned away, disappointed. But by an extraordinary stroke of luck, Blaise walked into the room that very moment.   
  
"Hey, Blaise, can I talk to you?"  
  
"How do you even know who I am? Hey, I get to speak!"  
  
"Yes, you do. Your very important to this subplot's subplot."  
  
"Damn, that's special for me."  
  
"I hear from Filch that you're angsty, too."  
  
"Yep. It's a tough life. I can't even sleep because I don't know which dorm to go into."  
  
"Yikes. So, hey, what can we do to un-angst ourselves?"  
  
"Money always works."  
  
"Spoken like a true Slytherin! Well done, Blaise!" Snape exclaimed, clapping Blaise on the shoulder.  
  
"How do we get money?"  
  
"Rob a bank!"  
  
"A Muggle bank?" Harry asked.  
  
"No, we'd have to change the money, it could be traced."  
  
"Wow, Blaise, you're smarter than me!"  
  
"Harry, a tulip is smarter than you."  
  
"Indeed," remarked a passing tulip.  
  
"So, we have to rob Gringotts."  
  
"Isn't that dangerous?" Harry asked worriedly.  
  
"Sure is."  
  
"I'm in!"  
  
"You both have personality disorders and need to seek help," commented the tulip.  
  
"Nobody asked you!" Harry screamed. Blaise jumped back, as did all the Slytherins who had gathered and were eyeing Harry as if he were the last slice of pizza in a room full of hungry girls at a slumber party. [a/n: I love my simile.] Snape stepped forward.  
  
"Don't worry about Potter, he's an angst character now and is prone to temper tantrums." The Slytherins looked disbelieving, but the word had been handed down from the Head of House - they had to pretend to accept it.   
  
Harry and Blaise abandoned their plan to rob Gringotts when Cho heard what they were doing and began to cry so hard she drowned Blaise. Harry survived only by holding on to the tulip as a life raft. Tulips are very buoyant. 


	5. Essence of Voldie

Harry Potter and the Rotating Plot Lines.  
  
A/N: Libbs, I'm keeping the tulip just for you! My raging love beast.  
  
Harry Potter and Lockhart's Untamed Chest Hair   
  
After the derailed Gringotts job, Harry's life was aimless for several weeks. He went to class and played Quidditch, all while feeling empty. His only constant companion was the tulip that had saved his life. It was when Professor Snape kept throwing evil glances at Harry from the staff table in the Great Hall, that he finally lost it. He stood on the Gryffindor table, ripped off his robe, and did a jig, whirling the robe over his head and sending it flying. It landed on a very un-amused Professor Snape.   
  
"Potter! Get your skinny arse out of the Hall!" Snape stormed up the aisle with Harry's robe still over his head. Hermione giggled as Snape tripped and landed face down on the floor. He didn't make any move to get up. "Just leave me here. Please." Hermione and Ron helped haul him to his feet. "You can't just lie there, Professor. We have a class this afternoon."  
  
"Why must you remind me? Potter, let's go. My office. And here," he thrust the robe back at Harry, "Put this back on. You're blinding the student body."   
  
"Professor Snape, I think I'm losing it. I think all the pressure has been building. I've been headed for this nervous breakdown. I mean, come on, I'm repeatedly traumatized. And I always come out smiling, a beacon of hope for millions."  
  
"With delusions of grandeur." Snape muttered. Harry went on as if he didn't hear.  
  
"Yet, basic psychology says we should deal with our trauma, or it backs up on us like the loo after I eat Mrs. Weasley's chili."   
  
"That is a horrid metaphor."   
  
Tulip raised a petal. "Actually, Professor Snape, it's a simile."  
  
"Why the hell is your tulip correcting my grammar?"   
  
"So maybe all this odd behavior makes sense. You know what? I'm going to check myself into St. Mungo's."  
  
"I thought this day would never come! Potter I can't tell you how happy this makes me."  
  
"Happy?"  
  
"Well... less miserable."  
  
"Off to St. Mungo's!"   
  
*  
  
"Well, Mrs. Weasley, I must say it's very unusual when a wizard checks himself into our care. But, thank Merlin for small favors. I hear he did a striptease in the Great Hall. These things simply must not happen. We'll find out what's wrong with him and get him back to you, straightaway."  
  
"Oh, thank you doctor! I'm so worried about the lad. He's a good kid, but perhaps a bit... edgy."   
  
"Don't worry about a thing, dear woman!" A third voice drifted into the room. The doctor rolled his eyes and twirled his finger about his temple. He whispered conspiratorially, "It's crazy Lockhart." Mrs. Weasley perked up when she heard this. Straightening her hair, she craned her neck to see where the voice was coming from.   
  
"If I have anything to say about it, your lad will be right as rain in no time at all!" Lockhart entered the room in all his - ahem, glory? His hair was ratted in a style similar to what the Muggles call an "Afro" and his striped robe was hanging open, revealing very tight leopard printed stockings and not much else. Mrs. Weasley promptly fainted. The doctor promptly vomited.  
  
"What's this, a tulip?" Lockhart said in a high, sing-song voice.   
  
"Don't even touch me, freak."   
  
"My, how clever a trickery! Talking tulips!"   
  
"Tuley! My friend!" Harry shouted, barrelling into the room. "What has he done to you? Did you hurt you in any way? OH MY! Mrs. Weasley! Doctor! What have you done to them, you fiend? *GASP* You must be working for Voldemort. You, you, you.... YOU SIDER WITH PARENT-MURDERERS, YOU!!!!"   
  
"Lovely to see you again. If I know you... do I know you?"   
  
"Don't try to fool me, mister. I am unfoolable!"   
  
"Harry... look out!"   
  
"Tulip, what is it? Do you need some water? Wa-wa for Tuley?"   
  
"You nincompoop! I'm a flower, not a baby! Stop talking to me in that idiotic voice. Oh, man, Harry, you better look behind you."  
  
"Hey, Tulip, watch the attitude. And don't try that watch out behind you trick. I am unfoolable!"   
  
'That's not even a word, you dolt. Seriously, check out behind you. This is some scary shit. I'm getting out of here." Tulip scooted its way out of the room, leaving Harry utterly baffled and therefore in familiar territory. He felt something tickling the back of his neck, and he turned to find himself being attacked by tendrils of Lockhart's chest hair.   
  
"OH GODS! HELP ME! THE CHEST HAIR IS WORKING WITH VOLDEMORT!" Harry slowly stopped screaming as the hair worked its way around his throat and began to tighten. His futile attempts to free himself lessened as his body went limp in the clutches of the chest hair. Lockhart simply stood, smiling, as his chest hair chocked Harry near to the point of death.   
  
Hermione came running into the room. "Backstreetboyicus waximus!" She shouted, pointing her wand at the curlicues. They immediately disappeared, leaving Lockhart with a very unmanly smooth chest.   
  
"Hey, I have pecs under all that hair!"   
  
Hermione bent down to listen for Harry's breathing. When it didn't come, she rolled him over onto his back and pulled a small vial from her robes. She waved it under his nose and he immediately came to.   
  
"Hullo, Hermione. What happened?"   
  
"I just roused you with a special mixture I found in Professor Snape's private stores. I don't know what it is." She waved the vial under Mrs. Weasley's nose, but nothing happened. "Hmmm. I wonder what it could be."  
  
"It's essence of Voldemort."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"It smells just like Voldemort. The parent killer."   
  
"Hmmm. He smells rather good."   
  
"Yeah. Hey, Hermione. You ought to get out of here. I'm supposed to be getting better."   
"Yeah, but you surely won't get better if you keep almost dying. I'm leaving you in the care of Tulip. It'll alert me if there's trouble. And there's bound to be. Try your best to be smart, okay?"  
"What's that?"  
"Oh gods. Never mind. I'll see you later."   
  
Next up: Harry Potter and the Revenge of Montezuma 


	6. Thatll Do Snape Thatll Do

A/N: Hey, an update. I needed to take a break from my serious fics (check them out, by the way… Not the First to Say and Propensity and the Chaotic Pendulum. Look up the latter one on thedarkarts.org under the name NoxMorsmordre, it's a slightly different version).   
  
Harry Potter and the Revenge of Montezuma  
  
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  
  
"I really miss Harry," Ron admitted.   
  
"Me, too," agreed Hermione.   
  
"I wish he'd let us visit him," added Neville.   
  
(A/N: everybody caught up? Okay then!)  
  
"We should go anyway. We have a Hogsmeade weekend next week, maybe we can sneak off!" Ron suggested.   
  
-----  
  
"We're here to visit Harry Potter."   
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter is very ill today."   
  
"Oh no! What's wrong with him?"   
  
"He has invoked the spirit of an ancient Aztec figure," the nurse giggled, trying to look serious. Ron's face clenched in an expression of constipation, and this is par for the course and hardly worth mentioning.   
  
"Hermione, what's she talking about?"   
  
Hermione looked pained, because she didn't know.   
  
"Oh, for Merlin's sake. He's got the trots!" the nurse exclaimed, exasperated. "I take the good time and trouble to make a clever joke, and you all ruin it."   
  
"They do that all time," remarked Tulip.   
  
"Tulip! Can we see Harry?"   
  
"No, I'm sorry, Idiot Boy is not accepting visitors where he is."   
  
"Harry died!" Neville burst into tears.  
  
"Calm down, you buffoon. He's in the loo."   
  
Neville turned rather red and wandered a bit away from the group.   
  
"How long will he be… ahem… occupied?" Hermione asked. Tulip shrugged his leaves.   
  
"That kid's having some nasty bowel issues. It could be hours."   
  
"We'll wait. We can tell him some Hogwarts stories and cheer him up!" Ron insisted. Tulip looked skeptical but scooted towards the magical elevator. Hermione sighed and picked him up.   
  
"Hey, watch it Miss Missy!"   
  
"Shut up, you. We don't have all day for you to drag your ceramic buttocks all over the hospital." Tulip sadly surrendered, snuggling into the crook of Hermione's arm. "You smell good," he commented.   
  
"Shut up."   
  
"I love a take-charge woman," he muttered. Hermione chose to overlook that comment.   
  
As they approached Harry's room, Hermione nearly dropped Tulip.   
  
"Bloody hell!" Ron cried, holding his nose.   
  
"Well put," Hermione said. Neville walked on unaffected. Hermione turned to him incredulously. "Don't you smell that?" She exclaimed. Neville took a deep wheezing breath.  
  
"No. Everything smells all right to me."   
  
"Neville, I always knew something was odd about you."   
  
"Thanks, Hermione. I thought you'd never notice!" he gushed, in tears again.   
  
"Bloody hell," Ron said… again. "Harry?" he called.   
  
A strained voice floated from behind what one assumed was the loo door. "I'm in here…. Guys…" followed by a groan that made Hermione's stomach turn.   
  
"Harry, we came to see how you're doing!" Neville said, being the only one brave enough to get closer to the door.   
  
"I'm doing… fine!"   
  
"Oh, gross," Hermione whispered from behind her hands.   
  
Harry Potter and the Gurgling Loo of Death   
  
"Mate, that smells awful!" Ron called helpfully.  
  
"Shut up, Ron!" Hermione hissed.  
  
"It's all right guys, I've finished. I'm coming out." Harry called. There was a muffled gurgling noise and then a shriek.   
  
"Harry? What happened?" Neville called worriedly.   
  
"Its… it's AWFUL!" Harry shrieked again. Ron braved inching nearer the door.   
  
"What is it, Harry?"  
  
The door swung open to reveal Harry, covered in water and … "Oh, god!" Hermione gasped, abandoning all pretense and clapping her hands over her entire face.   
  
"It's backed up!" Harry screamed. Ron peered around him and shrieked, shattering a glass and one of Neville's eardrums. The loo bubbled and spit… unpleasantness all over the floor.   
  
"I know way more about you than I ever wanted to," Tulip stated plainly as everyone realized they were staring at Harry's fecal matter.   
  
"That's just sick," a nurse commented.   
  
---  
  
Harry Potter and the End of the Story  
  
-  
  
"I think we have reached the end of an important journey," Dumbledore commented idly as he, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Tulip, and Snape sat around his office.   
  
"What does that mean? Huh? What?" Ron babbled.  
  
Professor Snape sneered. Big surprise. "Never mind Weasley, Headmaster. He's a bit traumatized after seeing a toilet nearly swallow his best friend." He explained with a very gleeful expression.  
  
"Does everyone know about that?" Harry muttered.  
  
"Yes," Tulip assured him.   
  
"Fantastic. Just one more horrible thing to happen to me. When will this all end?"  
  
Professor Snape stood and cleared his throat. "Well, Potter, you know what they say. When life hands you a lemon, transfigure it into a mallet and bash yourself in the head with it."   
  
"Uh… I've never heard anybody say that," Hermione offered.  
  
"Did anybody ask you?" he snapped.  
  
"Admittedly, no. But that has never stopped me before."   
  
"Point well taken, Miss Granger. And twenty points from Gryffindor."  
  
Dumbledore stood and joined Snape. "One of these days, Snape, I'm gonna punch you in the face!"   
  
Everyone shared a hearty laugh.  
  
A/N 2: Well, that'll be it. It's done. Fin. Thank you all for reading. I love you all, bless you all, rock and roll. 


End file.
